A Midsummer Night's Disagreement
by Insert Clever Username Here
Summary: Lysander leaves. Demetrius follows. Lysander entreats. Demetrius refuses. Or something like that. Slash, rated T to be safe.


A Midsummer Night's Disagreement

_Note: It might interest you to know that the events in this story are completely implausible, because in ancient Athens, where _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ is set, male homosexuality was not only condoned but encouraged. We can just ignore that, though can't we?Also, any similarities between this plot and that of a certain movie starring Jake Gyllenhall and Heath Ledger are purely coincidental. Seriously. I didn't even notice them until they were pointed out to me._

When he was sure Hermia was asleep, Lysander got up. Moving carefully so as not to disturb her, he made his way to a clearing well out of earshot and called "Demetrius, you can come out now."

The tall, black-haired youth sidled out from behind a nearby tree. "I knew you'd be glad to see me," he grinned.

"Go away."

"Well, look who's talking to me again," Demetrius observed.

"I'm not talking to you," Lysander said coolly, and turned his head away to prove the point.

"Funny. Your lips are moving and sound is coming out. Most experts would qualify that as talking."

"Contradiction," Lysander protested.

"Ah, we've regressed from full sentences, I see."

Lysander sighed. "Why did you follow us?"

"You. Followed you. I had no intention of following her."

"Whatever. Why did you follow me?"

"Oh, I think you know."

Lysander paused, wondering how only five words could make him want so badly to change the subject. "And anyway, I didn't stop talking to you. It was _you _who didn't want to talk to _me!__"_

"What are you talking about?" A note of amusement crept into Demetrius' voice.

"Don't give me that. You haven't spoken to me since we...er..." he trailed off.

Demetrius' slight smile vanished. "Don't. Bring that up."

Lysander

"Seriously, Demetrius. What are you doing here?"

"Standing in a clearing, talking to you. I thought we'd established that."

Lysander shook his head. "I see your problem. You think you're funny."

Demetrius laughed, a laugh which contained more than a trace of bitterness. "Oh, you're one to talk. Honestly, Lysander, you have the worst comedic timing I've ever seen. 'Do you marry him.' Clever."

"It just...slipped out."

"I'm sure it did. And that other bit was completely uncalled for. 'Spotted?' 'Inconstant?' You're a filthy hypocrite, you know that?"

Lysander looked around and reflected on the fact that this really wasn't the time or the place for such a confrontation. The moonlight shone through the trees in a way that made the whole clearing look enchanted, and the greenery was edged in silver. The moon, he couldn't help but notice, was also doing things to Demetrius' hair, making it shine in a way that human hair usually does not.

"So," Demetrius was saying, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Didn't Helena tell you?" Lysander said, catching the question just in time.

"All Helena told me was that you were stolen away to marry Hermia. Since I knew _that_ couldn't be true, I decided to investigate."

"Where is Helena, anyway? Wasn't she following you?"

"It took me a while to lose her. She has a very long stride."

The corners of Lysander's mouth twitched, but he struggled to maintain his composure. He walked over to a nearby weeping willow, leaning casually against it and adopting a more serious expression before he said, "Demetrius. Go home. Hermia's going to become a nun if you don't put a stop to this."

Demetrius snorted. "Well, she certainly doesn't want to share a bed with _you._"

"What?" Lysander looked a little hurt. After all, a man had to have some pride.

"Oh, please. She called you her _friend._ I don't think she wants to sleep with you any more than you want to sleep with her."

"Who says I don't want to sleep with her?" Lysander said, trying to be indignant, but at the same time painfully aware of how strange and faintly perverted that sounded.

"_Do _you?"

Lysander paused, cursing himself for his hesitance. "...Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What's it to you?"

"Look, Lysander, if you're trying to be cryptic, stop. It really doesn't work for you."

"I'm not being cryptic. I just don't see how it's any of your business who I sleep with."

"It used to be."

Lysander sighed. "You're wasting your time. And will you stop acting like you're the only victim here?"

"Will you stop acting like I know what you're talking about?"

"Helena. You should see her. You're all she bloody thinks about."

"Stop bringing Helena into this. She's not the point."

"No, Demetrius. The point is that Hermia loves me, not you, and that you should just give up and go home."

"It's not Hermia I'm after."

"I _told_ you-"

"All you told me was to find a girl, settle down, and forget about all this. You never specified which girl."

"You broke her heart!"

"I told her the truth; that's more than you've managed!"

"Look, if we're just going to argue about whose sins are the gravest...Do you really want two girls with ruined lives on your conscience?"

"That question would sound a lot more intimidating if it wasn't coming from someone who _obviously _doesn't _have _one!" Demetrius shouted, his tone rising with every word.

"What do you mean?" Lysander's volume matched Demetrius' now, and all previous attempts at tactfulness were thrown to the winds.  
"You know exactly what I mean. And anyway, you don't care about Hermia any more than I do! She's just your...your cover!"   
"My _cover? _Well, as I recall, Demetrius, you didn't treat your _cover_ very well, did you?" "It was for her own good," Demetrius replied, in a tone that Lysander knew had been designed purely for the purpose of goading him.  
Lysander stared at him (purely for reasons of outrage, of course). "How can you just

shrug her off like that?"  
"What, like _you _shrugged _me_ off? You just don't give a damn for anyone, do you? At least I'm being honest!"

"At least I have integrity!" They stood for a moment on opposite sides of the clearing, glaring at each other, until Demetrius crossed the distance between them in two long strides, grabbed Lysander's shoulders, and kissed him full on the lips.  
Lysander's first instinct was to relax into the kiss, but after a moment he remembered to struggle. Of course, by this time he was in a rather compromising position, still backed up against the tree with Demetrius holding him there.

"Now don't tell me you didn't enjoy that," Demetrius said.

"Let me go!"

"Or what?" Demetrius sneered as he saw Lysander reach for his sword. "Oh, the_ poet_ wants to fight me. I'm quaking in my boots."

Here he made the mistake of relaxing his grip-only slightly, but it was enough. A fist, or something that vaguely resembled one, flew at his unguarded face. It was a weak blow dealt by an inexperienced fighter, but it had done its job. Demetrius took a step backward, touching his burning cheek as though he was remembering something.

Lysander backed up even further against the tree, his own cheeks growing redder. The frustration he had been rationing calmly throughout the argument was now flowing freely. "You think you can just follow us in here and ruin everything, well you can't! You wanted to stop things just as much as I did, and now look at Helena! At least Hermia's happy! You don't care whose life you ruin, as long as you get what you want, do you?"

Demetrius turned and looked at him then, and Lysander was startled by the new emotion in his eyes, which he could not quite name. He struggled to keep his eyes raised, but gave up on glaring. Demetrius sighed, lowered himself onto a nearby log, and motioned to the space next to him. Startled at his own boldness, Lysander sat, and Demetrius looked at him again with what was almost a smile.

"So…what did you really tell Helena?" Lysander said casually, as if they were in the middle of an uninterrupted conversation.

Demetrius shrugged. "I just told her the truth."

"_All_ of it?"

"No, stupid. Just the parts that wouldn't get me killed."

"What did you say to her?" Lysander asked, trying not to sound too eager for details.

Demetrius caught the note of expectancy in his voice and smiled to himself. "Oh…I just told her I was in love with someone else." Lysander nodded and sat back. Demetrius looked at him, the brief smile now gone.

"And then you lied to her."

"For you!"

"Well, thank you. As you can see, I'm overjoyed. _Now _will you leave?"

"Not until I get a straight answer out of you."

"You've got a funny way of going about it!"

"Do you love her?"

The question had caught Lysander off-guard, not so much because of what Demetrius was saying, but the way he was saying it. His voice was soft, but Lysander did not miss the earnestness. It sounded as if he had wanted to ask the question for a long time but had been too afraid of the answer.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Do that again."

"What?"

"Say it again. Look me in the eye and tell me you love her, Lysander."

"I…love her," he said, but his eyes gave him away, dropping to the ground as soon as Demetrius met them.

For a moment something that looked like triumph crossed Demetrius' face, but it was quickly replaced by a kind of cold aloofness. "You never were a very good liar," he said. It would have been better, he thought, if Lysander had been telling the truth. Then at least one of them would be satisfied.

There was a long silence broken only by the rustlings of small somethings in the bushes and the occasional sounds of the nighttime birds.

They were sitting very close now, almost touching. Demetrius felt his pulse quicken, just like it always had, as Lysander looked at him. He reached over, tentatively, gently, to brush a lock of hair out of his former lover's eyes. "Yield thy crazéd title to my certain right," he whispered.

Lysander looked at him, and Demetrius looked back, understanding in each pair of eyes. "You know…you can come with us to the wedding if you want," Lysander said quietly.

"Look, Lysander. I accept and understand that it was perfectly necessary to rip my heart out and throw it on the floor...but do you really have to _jump_ on it?" Demetrius said, raising one eyebrow and smiling again, a little halfheartedly

"Fine. I guess this is goodbye, then?"

"I suppose," Demetrius said, a little too politely. He stood up to leave, then turned, speaking matter-of-factly. "I'm not giving up, Lysander. If I can't have you, then neither can she."

"Ah, Demetrius. Always accepting defeat gracefully." Demetrius looked back at him in a way that made his insides twinge, and Lysander was a little stunned by the causticity of his own remark, but he didn't show it. Anything to make him go.

Finally, Demetrius shrugged and walked off. Lysander's eyes did not follow him, instead staring resolutely at the forest floor. When he finally did look up to discover that his former lover had indeed left, he did not get up, and instead spent several more minutes sitting silently in the clearing, his head in his hands.


End file.
